


The Box

by DemiDoots



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Light Flirting, lowkey yooran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiDoots/pseuds/DemiDoots
Summary: Saeran had watched him closely for a moment that felt much longer than it probably was before looking back down into the box. He reached in and pulled out a mesh shirt from the bottom, feeling out the soft netting between his fingers. “So you’ve never worn any of this?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ijaeli](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ijaeli).



> because I am weak when [ijaeli](ijaeli.tumblr.com) draws things

Yoosung stuck his finger in one of the holes of his shirt. His cheeks burned as he wondered if it even really counted as a shirt. It was all white mesh, loose-fitting and showing much more skin that it covered. Well, skin and the strappy harness he wore under the mesh. How in the world had his day led him to this point?

His eyes landed on a nearby box, and he decided to lay all his blame there.

It had been his intention to do a little spring cleaning and donate some clothes that he didn’t wear often, but when he found a sweater he remembered Saeran showing an interest in, Yoosung decided to let Saeran pick out anything he’d like before donating everything. But then _that box_ \--that little, unassuming, unlabeled box--had gotten pulled out of the bottom of his closet with everything else and blended right in with all his donation boxes.

He was pretty sure he’d come as close to dying of embarrassment as any human probably ever had when Saeran had opened _that_ particular box and lifted one shiny strap with a confused “What’s this?”

In his rush to find some way to explain the box and its contents, Yoosung’s brain and mouth failed to quite sync up and the only thing he managed was a stuttering, incoherent jumble of syllables and half-formed words. He had to cover his face with his hands, knowing full well just how red his face was, and take several deep breaths to slow down his racing thoughts. The entire time he tried to pull himself together, Saeran waited patiently and Yoosung wasn’t sure if that made him feel better about everything or not.

“They’re, um, harnesses and...collars that you wear,” Yoosung had explained, picking up one of several colorful plastic straps. “Some friends were throwing this themed party, and when they showed me what everyone would be wearing, I thought they were really cute! I went a little overboard and ended up ordering a few different types in a spree, but when the party rolled around, I was too embarrassed for anyone to see me in one and didn’t go,” he’d laughed, tight and awkward as he told his story. “I actually forgot I even had these.”

Saeran had watched him closely for a moment that felt much longer than it probably was before looking back down into the box. He reached in and pulled out a mesh shirt from the bottom, feeling out the soft netting between his fingers. “So you’ve never worn any of this?”

“Hm?” The question had surprised Yoosung, and his nerves about the whole thing had that awkward laughter bubbling up again as he said, “Ah, no, I never worked myself up to it.”

“Then how do you know you want to donate them?”

That had been the question that started it all. His explanations that it wasn’t his intent to donate that particular box (or ever let it see the light of day) had been brushed aside as Saeran told him he should at least try them on once. He’d spent the money on them, after all. And it was just the two of them, so there was no reason to feel embarrassed.

Yoosung wanted to argue, but he really couldn’t. With the amount of time they spent together, he really was more comfortable around Saeran than most people and knew Saeran wouldn’t judge him just because of something he wore, but still...the strappy vest harness and mesh shirt were much more revealing than anything he usually wore, even alone.

He’d insisted on changing in the bathroom so that he could at least psych himself up on his own before showing the result to someone else. He checked the little buckles (for the third time) and gave the straps a couple of tugs to get them settled so that everything was comfortable. Stretching his arms out to the side and then above his head, Yoosung gave a few twists and turns and was surprised at how comfortable it actually was. It wasn’t a restricting or cutting as he thought it might be. The mesh actually tickled a little as it slid over his skin.

“Okay,” he said with an exhale, turning to face the door back to Saeran’s room. Before more hesitation and doubt could creep in, he opened the door, as ready as he was going to be for whatever Saeran might say.

Only prepping himself for any comments he might receive, Yoosung was far from prepared to see Saeran in a harness and mesh shirt of his own. The blush that had been holding steady on his cheeks ever since _the box_ was opened flamed brighter and managed to spread up to his ears and down his neck.

Before he could say anything about it, Saeran explained, “I wanted to try one on too, and I thought you might be more comfortable if someone else was wearing one.”

Somehow, Yoosung thought, Saeran also wearing a harness _did_ make it a little easier, in an odd, flustering sort of way. Tugging at the solid hems of his mesh shirt for lack of anything better to do with his hands, Yoosung crossed the room to stand by Saeran and look at what was left in the box; two collars, a harness, and another shirt made of tighter mesh. He was startled when he felt Saeran touch one of the straps running across his stomach.

“I like it,” Saeran told him.

Yoosung looked down and saw Saeran’s fingertip tracing the swirls of shifting blues and purples and pinks. When he looked back up at Saeran’s face, he saw a small smile there.

“All the colors,” Saeran continued, “they just sort of...fit you.”

Doing his best to ignore his blush and the tight, ticklish feeling in his chest and stomach, Yoosung reached up and tugged at a large metal ring where several straps were attached just above Saeran’s bellybutton. “I like yours too,” he said with a smile of his own. Looking at the straps of shiny solid pink underneath the black mesh, he pointed out, “It matches the ends of your hair.”

Saeran lifted a hand to run through his hair as he spoke, a little unsure, “I’ve been thinking about letting my natural color grow back out.” There was a pause before he added in a softer voice, “Like Saeyoung.”

“I’m sure that’ll look good too, if that’s what you want to do,” Yoosung smiled trying to be supportive and encouraging. It was still pretty rare for Saeran to outright say that he wanted to do something just for himself.

Nodding, Saeran ran a finger under the choker part of the harness he was wearing as he said, “It’s tight in places but more comfortable than I was expecting.”

“Right?” Yoosung agreed, letting his surprise at how much he liked the harness-mesh combo push away the last lingering bits of embarrassment. “Once you get used to it, it’s really nice. I like the way the mesh feels.”

“So you’re not going to donate this box anymore?” 

“I never meant to donate it to begin with,” Yoosung laughed awkwardly. He was actually pretty glad things had worked out the way they had. It would have been much worse to find that particular box at the donation site.

Saeran glanced over at the other boxes of donation clothes he’d been looking through for anything he liked before turning his attention back to Yoosung and touching the mesh and plastic he currently wore. “Even though you weren’t going to donate it, can I still keep this one?”

Not expecting the question, Yoosung laughed at being caught off guard by it. “Sure,” he nodded. “Let’s finish going through the other boxes too, though.”

* * *

They were still wearing the harnesses and mesh several hours later, having gotten used to the way they felt and looked and mostly forgetting about how far outside the norm it actually was for them. After sorting through the remaining boxes into Saeran’s picks and what would actually be donated now, they’d settled in the Choi household’s living room to play a game.

“Careful around this next corner,” Yoosung warned as he watched Saeran play. “There’s a trap that’s easy to miss.”

They were only half-aware of hearing the front door open and only paused the game when Saeyoung’s automatic greeting to them trailed off about halfway through.

Looking up, they saw Saeyoung staring at them, phone forgotten in his hand, likely still in the middle of texting someone. The older twin stared at them for a moment before opening his mouth to speak only to close it again. For the first time Yoosung could really recall, Seven looked speechless.

When it occurred to Yoosung what had momentarily knocked Saeyoung off balance, his blush from earlier returned full force and he was gearing up to explain what they were wearing when he was effectively cut off. 

Saeyoung lifted his phone without a word, took a picture of the two of them on the couch, and turned to continue on his way towards his room.

Yoosung and Saeran were a little confused by the reaction, but tried to brush it off as one of Saeyoung’s odd quirks. 

At least, that was the case until a new thread appeared in the RFA chatroom featuring their picture and the title “Yoosung is corrupting my baby brother.”


End file.
